BIOBaby: Jack Updates

It’s been awhile. I’ve been busy with school and trying to get published. Thanks for your patience.

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Jack is almost 14 months now. His vocabulary continues to grow. Donny has been upgraded from “Dada” to “Daddy.” It’s absolutely adorable and somewhat annoying. Annoying because I just realized a few days ago that he now says Mama when referring to me and when requesting food. My mom will be pouring a bowl of Cherrios for him and he’ll start chanting from his high chair, “Mama mama!” Kali will be pouring a cup of juice for him and he’ll be standing at her side, pointing at the cup, and screaming, “Mama mama!”

“This is because, to him, you are food.” Donny explained. “It’s kind of cute.”

“No. It’s insulting. A bit of my soul dies when my son affectionately calls a french fry, ‘Mama!’”

Donny has taught him how to say, “Belly.” He will rub his own, and sometimes one of our bellies, and say belly over and over again. Not to be outdone, I’m trying to teach him how to say, “esophagus.”

He’s a smart cookie and tries desperately to keep up with Kali and my lil sister, Bruklyn. The girls were outside the other day and Jack stood at the second floor gallery window watching them play. Suddenly, he began running a few feet to the wall, slapping it, and then running back to the window. I was standing nearby, on the phone with my Dad, silently wondering what the hell he was doing. Then, I looked out the window and saw that the girls were racing to the neighbor’s mailbox, tagging it with their hands, and then running back to the other neighbor’s driveway. Jack wanted to race too!

Yes, I’m still nursing him. He is not really feeling the cow’s milk, but will drink baby juice and water. He eats cereal, baby cereal, Gerber graduates meals, steamed veggies, and random things from our plates. He still likes to nurse at night before bed. I’m not worried about it because I told myself when I was pregnant that I’d try to nurse for the first 18 months.

He’s still sleeping with us as well. Some people seem to think that we are setting ourselves up for trouble later, but this isn’t our first rodeo. Kali was still sleeping with us at this age too. It’s even more convenient because he is still nursing. I’m not overly concerned with a rough transition to his own room because we have experience with it and did just fine.

Finally, Jack loves to dance.

Tomorrow: The Top Ten Most Ridiculous Things I’ve Said As a Mom

BIOBaby: Engage Him!

When Jack first came home he would cry every time we changed his diaper. After about a week or so he understood that what were doing was a relatively quick and painless process that left him feeling more comfortable when we were done. We’ve now noticed over the past few weeks that he seems to actually “help” us when we’re changing him.

I’ll unbutton his onesie and lift it over his belly. He’ll then clutch the clothing with both hands and lift it a bit higher. When I undo his soiled diaper, he lefts his legs as if to say, “Make sure you get it all. Thanks!” The only time he cries now is a few times that Donny changes him. And last night, while on the phone with Kevin, I realized what Donny is doing wrong on the few times that he cries.

“Engage him, Donny!”

He just looked at me like I was crazy.

I also talk to Jack. It’s what I did with Kali and she talked early, often, and smartly. When I pick Jack up it’s, “Come to Mama. That’s Mama’s big boy.” When Donny enters a room it’s, “There’s Dada. Say hi to Dada.” When he’s playing with Kali I say, “Is that your sister? Tell Kali you love her.” I’m trying to associate Mama, Dada, and sister or Kali with me, Donny, and kali respectively. When I’m about to give him his pacifier I say, “Where the bo bo go? Where the bo bo go? Oh, there the bo bo go!” It helps that it ryhmes.

When I change his diaper I’m smiling at him and talking, “Can I change your butt? Did you make stink-stink? Let Mama change your butt.” he laughs and tries to talk back and before he knows it, I’m done. Clean butt. He doesn’t cry every time Donny changes him, just when Donny is changing him and not talking to him.

After I got off the phone I explained this to Donny.

“You have to engage him. Talk to him. Make eye contact. Engage him. Otherwise he feels taken advantage of. You just exposed him. You can’t be exposin’ somebody’s balls and not engaging them. That’s just rude.”

“Fine. You can engage me later.”

“You are so nasty.”

BIOBaby: What in the World Were We Thinking?

I am about ninety-five percent sure I will never have another child. Not because of the physical pain. It’s true, you forget after time. In my case, it’s been 7 weeks and I find myself thinking, “You know, it wasn’t that bad.” But because it’s really emotionally draining.

I went from feeling completely overwhelmed and detached during the first trimester which made me feel ungrateful and evil. The second trimester, though better physically, found me feeling completely neurotic and worried that any and all birth defects would affect my child, not to mention the fear of miscarriage, early labor, and still birth. Finally, the third trimester was a rollercoaster filled with euphoric highs and depressive lows. And the fear that the depression would remain after my son arrived and I’d have to be kept from sharp objects and medicated.

And sometimes, even the love is too much. Nothing strips you of all your bullshit and defenses than looking into the eyes of your newborn child. The other day I said to Donny, “When Jack looks at me… I feel… funny. You know?”

“Yeah, me too.”

And that was end of the conversation, but I knew he got it. When I’m nursing Jack and he stares up at me, directly in my eyes, I feel honest. I feel naked. I feel like this kid knows me better than anyone else. That I am incapable of pretense because he is so in tune with how I feel and what I’m thinking that he’d call, “Bullshit!,” if I even tried to be dishonest with anyone. Including myself.

There are times when Donny and I will just stare at him and ask each other out loud, “What in the world were we thinking?,” and, “Where did he come from?” How’d we get so lucky? Intellectually, I know that I’m not the only woman in the world that loves her children, but emotionally, I think every parent feels as if no one loves their children as much we love our own. I know El Supremo loves his daughter, Bryce loves his son and Chrissa loves hers, but when I’m holding my son and my daughter sits next to me softly kissing his forehead I think surely no parent understands, or ccan ompete with, the love I feel for the two of them. Including my own parents.

I know my parents love me, but there are times when this love I feel for Kali and Jack is so all consuming that I think, “There’s no way one person loves me this much. Much less two people!”

I know Donny wouldn’t mind another child, but I don’t know if my heart could stand it. I already feel like God blessed us with one of each who are both, so far and thankfully, healthy. Why be so greedy?

Since Jack has been with us we’ve had a few scares. Another two today. There was my concern over the grunting and gas he struggles with. Especially when he’s sleeping. Doctor’s solution? Experiment with my diet, give him baby gas drops and gripe water, and let him sleep on his tummy occasionally. Then there was the three days he went without pooping. I found out that it is not uncommon for newborn breastfed babies to go days without pooping and that I shouldn’t worry. Then there was the heart murmur heard a week and a half ago. A trip to a pediatric cardiologist and ultrasound later, Jack’s heart is just fine.

Today something hit me. Something that a reader actually brought to my attention back on August 21st. I dismissed it and was even quite offended. She was seeing things. Making nothing out of coincidences. My baby is fine. He’s perfect. Though I kept my response polite, I hope, I now owe her an apology. Jack does have a tendency to keep his head tilted to the right. When I mentioned her observation to Donny, he also scoffed. “He’s fine.” Now, almost a month later we were both concerned.

I sat Jack up in my lap this morning and asked Donny, “Do you see it? Do you see how no matter what his head will always fall to the right?”

“Yeah,” he sighed, “I noticed it yesterday.”

We were both afraid to voice the possibility that something, anything, no matter how small, could be wrong with our perfect boy. We called the nurse who suggested that we bring him in in the next few days. When I also mentioned my concern that his little belly button had started to protrude slightly and seemed to poke out and harden when he cried, she suggested we come in today. That sent me into tears. Why so serious, I wondered.

The doctor examined Jack and noted that he doesn’t have any problems turning his head (we told him that when we give him tummy time he holds his head up and turns it left and right all the time.) He said that in most babies with Torticollis (thought keep in mind the doctor isn’t sure that Jack has this. At least not as severely as mentioned in the article) the side that is not favored will have a mass on the muscle. Jack, thankfully, doesn’t have that though he feels a slight tightness on the left side of Jack’s neck that he doesn’t feel on the right. He referred us to a physical therapist who, on Monday, will show us some exercises that we can do with Jack that will correct the behavior. By the time he is sitting up on his own, he should be fine.

As for the belly button, it’s a very slight umbilical hernia (which, coincidentally, was mentioned for the first time in Week 7 of a baby book that takes you through the first year with your baby week by week) that shouldn’t require surgery. His belly button should go in by the time he’s walking. If it ever becomes hard to the point where it will not go in when pushed, we are to take him to a pediatric emergency room immediately. Though, this is rare. Like 1 in 2 million babies rare.

I really don’t understand how we parents do it. When I was going thought that debate with Frogger on parenthood, I remember some women saying that people actually called them selfish when they expressed their desire not to become mothers. I didn’t understand, or agree with, that and I definitely don’t now. Sometimes I look at Jack and think, “What right did I have to bring this beautiful baby into this world where I know that one day he will be hurt, embarrassed, lonely, etc., before eventually dying?” All so we could have a son to love and teach sports or take fishing? Who are we to think we could handle such a responsibility or deserve such a love? How selfish!

But, God help me, when I’m nursing him and he looks up at me and sighs because he’s so content, and his hand cradles my breast because he feels safe (and loves the boob!), and he lets go of the nipple so that he can offer me a gummy smile with milk on his mouth, I think, “This is seriously what life is all about. I could do this all day long.”

Selfish? Maybe. But even with all the worry, I’ve never been happier.

BIOBaby: No Pee On Me

So far, Jack hasn’t pissed in my face. Or anywhere else on me for that matter. He’s gotten Kali’s foot, our bedspread, and his bath water. But not Mommy. But he’s done some other stuff.

When we first brought him home we didn’t have to worry about accidental squirting because his circumsion was still healing which meant his little business was constantly covered by a vaseline laden gauze. When it was diaper change time, whoever wasn’t changing the diaper helped the other out by preparing a fresh square of gauze with a generous amount of vaseline.  The dirty diaper was opened, butt was wiped, balls cleaned, creases seen to, and a fresh diaper was swapped out. Before closing the clean diaper the old gauze was quickly replaced with the new one. Easy, breezy.

On Monday we were told his circumsion had healed nicely and we could stop using the gauze. All of a sudden big bad Daddy was concerned with getting pee in his face. “Nina, can you pass me the Wee Block?” I just smirked and handed it off. Now the diaper changing routine remains pretty much the same except after we quickly remove the Wee Block, we quickly clean the penis area, and then quickly close the clean diaper.

The other night I was changing Jack’s diaper on my bed. It was probably around 2am. Since I’d been on the Lasix his poop was runny and he was prone to shitty farts, or sharts if you will. He didn’t have a rash, but his little bottom was getting quite red from the constant changes (he’d have a shitty fart just after you changed him and had moved on to nursing) so I decided to put a little Desitin there to ward off a rash.  As I was applying the cream to his booty with my index finger he sharted… on my finger. A warm spray of baby poop got ON not IN my hand, mainly the index finger.

“Jack!”

He responded by farting again.

It’s funny how the bodily fluids of your newborn don’t seem as bad as say… your own. And definitely anyone else’s. I remember when I was a preteen visiting my aunt in South Carolina and she was saying how one of her children had been so congested as a newborn she had to literally suck the snot out of her nose with her own mouth because the suction bulb was too large to fit into the baby’s nostrils. At the time my first thought was, “You nasty.”

Flash forward to 1999-2000 and Kali is sick. I find myself in the same predicament.  I tried sticking my pinky finger in her little nostrils to get the gook out and no luck. I took a deep breath and put my mouth to her nose and sucked out her snot. Don’t judge me!

Later on the same night that he sharted on me we were lying in my bed face to face. He was drifting off to sleep and I was talking to him kinda drifting off myself.  I leaned forward and kissed him on the lips just as he spit up. ON not IN my mouth.

“Jack!,” I said, but it came out more like, “Hmmhgh” because I was afraid to open my mouth.

So yeah, no pee on me. That’s something, right?

BIOBaby: Baby Talk

This whole deal with the baby’s sex yesterday has me kinda anxious. Do you know how weird it is to feel in your heart for months you’re going to have a son, have it confirmed, and then for like ten minutes start imagining your little boy’s life only to have someone else come in and tell you you’re having a girl? Sucks. Not that I don’t want a girl, I want a healthy baby. Period. It just takes some time to get your emotions, thoughts, and plans readjusted. Apparently, it doesn’t take that long because by the end of the night we were cooing over the ultrasound pics saying things like,

“Aww, look at her little nose. You can totally see it. It’s the biggest thing on her face. She’s going to have your nose. Poor thing.”

“What’s wrong with my nose?”

“It’s big.”

“No it’s not!”

“It’s bigger than mine and I’m black.”

“It’s bigger than yours, but it’s not big. I think I have a good nose.” (This morning my mother called and agreed. Donny has a nice nose. Whatever.)

Then we talked about the name. We had come to settle on, and quite love, Jack Ian so much we now had to prepare ourselves for Isabelle Sophia… and allow it to roll off our tongues a bit.

“I miss Jack already! Maybe we can name her Jacklyn Sophia?”

He thinks about this for a moment and kind of nods. “That’s not bad.”

“Good. But I’m going to call her Jack.”

And he just laughs.

We had all these “things” tied up emotionally in having a boy. Donny lost his father as a kid and when we were going through our marriage problems two years ago he confessed that all he’s ever wanted was a family. And he really wants a son so he can do with him all the things he shared with his father: baseball, golf, fishing, etc.

“Well, you better hope she’s a lesbian then, ’cause if this is a girl, I’m not having anymore.”

Which is probably a lie. I’m not a supporter of people having children just to have a particular sex. But we’d always planned on having two more but then work, lay-offs, finances, school, marriage trouble, and basically life in general always got in the way. Then one day (last October) I woke up and thought, “What the fuck am I waiting for? I’m 33. I keep coming up with excuses and what am I going to do when I’m ready and the doctor tells me it’s too late? Then what?” So we made plans to start trying after the holidays. A month later I was pregnant. We called ourselves “practicing” stupidly forgetting that ejaculation into vagina isn’t really how you practice. It’s how you get the job done.

Anyway, since I always swore I wouldn’t have kids past 35 I really wanted this to be a boy so I wouldn’t be tempted to do that third one. And really this came to me during that awful month of throwing up everything I consumed and being sick all day/everyday.  Now, after a few weeks of clarity and limited illness I’m open to the possibility. But it damn sure won’t be before I’m 35. This baby is due a week before I turn 34.

“I can always just knock you up again right after.”

“You must be out of your fucking mind.”

But waiting a year or two won’t be so bad. Hell, I read this morning that J-Lo’s having twins and her big ass is 38. We’ll see.

Last night we started wondering how this baby, this new personality, would fit into our lives. We’re such a kooky bunch. For instance, I’m convinced that whatever Kali does in life it will involve her wearing as minimal amount of clothes as possible. The girl just likes walking around in panties and t-shirts. In fact, when she comes home from school she always has to pee so she rushes into the powder room downstairs and always exits with just her panties on. We don’t even question anymore. In fact, if you go in that bathroom right now I bet the jeans she wore to school yesterday are on the floor. And if she wasn’t home sick on Monday, those pants would be there too. Usually after two days or so Donny yells for her to come get her stuff and reminds her she has her own bathroom upstairs to mess up.

Anyway, it doesn’t bother me. I know she’s intelligent and whatever she wants to do in life is fine with me. I’m not one of those people that think what you do for a living defines your intelligence. There are plenty of stupid assholes operating on people and trying criminal cases and acting as heads of states. I graduated valedictorian and a few years later was draped around some white boy, on a beach, half naked and greased up, with sand up my hoo-ha, for a photo shoot. No one on that beach knew, or cared, that I read on a 12th grade reading level in the 5th grade or that I skipped the 8th grade. I hope my kids know that they don’t have to walk around proving how smart they are just to prove it. And I want them to follow their dreams. So, if in 13 years there’s some mocha colored supermodel named Kali on the cover on Sports Illustrated for their bajillionith anniversary  swimsuit issue wearing nothing but rose petals and brown string, know that her Mama is very proud.

But back to Jackabelle… I asked Donny, “Do you think the baby will like us?”

“The baby will love us.”

“I hope the baby likes our house.”

“The shit you think about.”

“I just meant that I hope it likes the foundation we’ve started. Nice house, nice area, great schools, you know… I hope he’s happy.”

At that point Kali comes in the room and sees the ultrasound pic on the computer with the caption, “Sucking his thumb.”

“Don’t you mean, his slash her thumb?”

“Well, we still don’t know. The nurse said it’s a boy, but the doctor said girl.”

“Well, you should listen to the doctor because the nurse is just the assistant.”

And I was too stunned to even defend the nurses of the world. After she left the room, and before bed, I was able to comfort myself with the thought that it could still be a boy by reasoning,

“That doctor was obviously gay so you know he don’t know what a pussy look like no way.”

I know it was wrong. But it made Donny laugh. And I like to make him laugh.